Page 30 of Blame It On Midnight

“Cal’s on stage?” Benton asked, surprised.

“Yep. He and Millie Sue are gonna do a set. Try out some new material. It would be a shame for you to miss it all because of some?—”

“Shut it.” He aimed the barb at Cole.

“I’m just saying if your situation is all good, why avoid town?”

Ryland shook his head. “I have no idea what you two are talking about, but I’ll get the truck and bring it up front.” The boy wasn’t legal yet, but he made for a good driver.

Colton waited until his younger cousin disappeared before turning back to Bent. “I’m not trying to be an asshole.

“Try harder.”

“What are you afraid of? Collins? A good time? Happiness?” He stepped back. “Life’s too short, Bent. Christ, pull that stick out of your butt.”

Colton disappeared, and Benton heaved a sigh. He tossed the pen in his hand and wheeled around to face the window. Maybe Collins was gone. She’d made no effort to contact him, and he did not doubt that she was capable of doing so if she wanted to.

“Why do I care?” he muttered. What is it about her?

He spied Ryland pull up in one of the ranch trucks. The kid honked the horn, obviously impatient, and heard the front door slam behind. A heartbeat passed.

Fuck it, he thought, getting to his feet. He yanked on the brim of his ballcap, grabbed his wallet from the hall table, and headed outside. The truck was just pulling away but stopped when Colton leaned his head out of the window. Bent held up one hand, his meaning clear, and crawled into the back.

Thankfully, the ride was mostly silent, save for the radio that blasted the latest country tunes, including one from his brother, Cal.

Bent relaxed. It would be good to see him and Millie Sue on stage at the Sundowner. The place had brought the two of them full circle and he was damn glad for it. Besides, he wasn’t a fucking chickenshit. His eyes shot bullets at the back of Cole’s head.

The lot was packed, but Ryland pulled around back to the staff parking, and the three men headed inside via the kitchen.

“Hey boys.” Bobby, one of the line cooks, gave a wave. “It’s hopping tonight.”

Ryland stopped to chat with the young man while Colton followed Benton into the main room. Benton whistled. Bobby was right. It was standing room only. The band hadn’t hit the stage yet, and he figured he had some time to grab a drink before they did. He nodded to folks he knew and carefully picked his way through the throngs of bodies, the bar on the opposite end his target.

He was nearly there too, when he spied her. Long hair. Pillow-soft lips. Tight white tank top. She was smiling at a group of men while pouring shots.

“She took a job. Officially started last night.” Colton cleared his throat.

Son of a bitch. He thought she was playing with him the last time he’d been here. What the hell did a fancy model know about slinging beer?

“You knew she was working here?” He asked the question, but couldn’t take his eyes off Collins. Already, his body was reacting. He was hot and tight and fucking furious.

“I saw something in the group chat.”

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked.”

“Fuck you.”

Colton grinned. Not the reaction he wanted. His cousin leaned in close. “She’s something else. I get it now.”

Benton shoved past him and walked up to the bar. He elbowed his way past a pack of men, all of them waiting for Collins. All of them begging for a fist to the gut.

If he was thinking of causing violence. Which he wasn’t.

He pushed past the last one, Greg Mayer, and nailed Collins with a look that would intimidate any of the men here. But not her. She slowly smiled and Greg damn near lost his shit.

“Sweet Jesus, but you’re about the most beautiful thing I ever saw.”

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